the spider's web
by milahtalas
Summary: Shiro's infatuated with a ballet dancer he sees every Saturday on his morning jog. Keith's on a quest to become the "greatest ballet dancer in the world", as how Hunk had put it. The two find themselves caught in a spider's web.


It's eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, the cool autumn breeze present in the air. Shiro puts on his earphones to fill in the silence, music coming to him in the form of the latest pop song on Spotify. He goes on his weekly morning run, eager to escape the stack of reports, unanswered emails, and scheduled conference calls waiting for him at home.

He misses the times when he would go piloting to the far edges of the Solar System. Shiro was one of the top pilots in the Galaxy Garrison, but the accident which came to him in the form of the Kerberos mission had cost him his arm and his chances to pilot a spacecraft again. Shiro spent a lot of time thinking about the next chapter in his life, because all he's ever known was working towards his dream of touching the heavens. Eventually, he resigned to inheriting the family company.

It's the first week of October and the amount of work he has in his hands already made him want to pull his hair out. A weekly morning run gives Shiro some kind of routine, some stability in his life. It was something that didn't include his already bleak work at the company, something that didn't include Matt Holt's attempts at getting him a boyfriend.

Besides, Shiro already had someone in mind. The only problem is, well, he doesn't exactly know who he is, and said someone doesn't even know of Shiro's existence. At least, not yet.

His weekly morning runs weren't just a way for him to grasp onto any kind of stability in his life. It wasn't just for him to keep himself in good shape. His weekly morning runs also meant being able to see the said someone through the windows of a ballet studio. He sees him practising at nine in the morning every Saturday, just passing by on his jogging route. And _god,_ Shiro could not get the ballet dancer out of his head.

The raven-haired dancer has the studio to himself on Saturday mornings, and Shiro couldn't help but sneak a few glances at him during those times. He was usually dressed in nothing more than a plain shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and his ballet shoes, but the way he spun and moved had captivated Shiro, no need for any extra embellishments that one might see on stage. He had a small build but there was strength and grace in every motion, all the steps filled with a great passion for the art.

He's already thought about all the cheesy jokes he would say, and thinks about the way the dancer would most likely smack his shoulder at how bad they would be. He notices the way the dancer looks like in the morning, the gorgeous features of his face highlighted by the natural light. Shiro thinks about how he holds a crush for someone that he doesn't even know the name of. Sometimes, he thinks that it's pathetic and he should just accept Matt's attempts in setting him up. Sometimes, he thinks about being brave and storming into the ballet studio, to introduce himself and maybe ask the dancer out for lunch.

He never does either of it. Annoying company partners he can take of, but he's scared of getting tongue-tied in front of the gorgeous dancer. He's Takashi Shirogane, and he's captivated by the way the dancer moves in the morning sun.

He's nearing the studio and and he can feel joy rise up in his chest. He already sees the dancer stretching by the bars from the window; posture perfect, toes pointed, shoulders down. After that, he reaches down and presses 'play' on the radio, before he executes a series of steps and turns, each rise and fall highlighted with elegance. Ballet is all about grace focusing on how refined its practitioners were. Shiro can't hear the music, but as far as he's concerned, he doesn't need it to be able to appreciate the wonderful flow of the dance.

The desire to go up to him and introduce himself washes over Shiro again. He's slowing down his pace to be able to watch him for even just a few more seconds, and now he's seriously considering stepping inside the studio just to find out the dancer's name.

But he doesn't.

He tears his gaze away from the studio and jogs past it just like last week, and the week before that.

"One day, Takashi." he whispers to himself. "One day, you'll talk to him, and you'll find out his name, at the least."

* * *

Keith reaches inside his duffel bag and pulls out a small towel. It's nearing noon and he's packing up before heading out to lunch and returning later to teach his afternoon ballet classes. He appreciates Saturday mornings, for it was the only time he could have the studio to himself and actually let go. No restraints, no worries, no responsibilities — it would only be him, the studio, and the music.

He drapes the towel around his neck and reaches for his water bottle, taking a sip before putting it back in the bag. Saturdays not only meant he had the studio to himself, but it also meant the weekly lunches with his friends at their favourite Vietnamese restaurant. He, Allura, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk — they ran the studio together, took turns teaching classes, managing it in between their own lives. And they could sometimes be a pain in the ass, but Keith wouldn't have it any other way.

Ballet is the only life he's known, and he can't see a life without it, without the way it makes him feel exhilarated. It makes him feel like he can reach for the stars. Keith loves the way he could tell a story with the very movement of his hands, with the way he could arch his back, with how he could jump and spin and make every moment count. He's in love with the way he moves as the crescendo of the music takes him, how with even the lowest of notes and most silent of sounds, he can turn the supposedly peaceful moments the most magical ones.

People had always underestimated the dance, thinking that it was easy. What they didn't see were the efforts put into making such hard things seem effortless. They don't see the way Keith has bled, bruised, and broken himself just to get every step perfect. They don't see the countless hours, days, weeks, months, _years,_ it took just to make a four-minute performance look beautiful.

When people would fail him, Keith always had ballet. He could express anger, disappointment, sadness with every step. He could take every negative emotion inside of him and channel it into something good. He could use it to fuel him, to better himself in the one thing he loves most.

The door to the studio opens and the small bell on it signals Keith of one's arrival. He turns and sees Allura leaning by the door way, her white hair pulled up in a ponytail and a warm smile on her face. "It's best you hurry up or we'll be late," she says. "I know Linh always saves us a table for lunch, but I just got a call from Lance and he's _absolutely famished_ , as he puts it."

Keith scoffs. "That's just Lance being Lance. You know, blowing things out of proportion."

"You know what else he told me?" Allura lets out a breathy laugh. Keith raises an eyebrow at her before he moves to take out the spare clothes he brought for the planned lunch. "He told me that he thinks you need to get laid."

Keith groans. In between the ballet classes he teaches and the shows he's been invited to play in, Keith doesn't really have time for such things, or so he tells himself. "That guy really just can't keep to his own business, can he?"

"That's just Lance being Lance."

Lance may be wrong on some things, and he may be someone who constantly blows things out of proportion, but he _was_ right on one thing: Keith needed to get laid. Or, get into a relationship at the least. It's been a while since Keith's been in a real relationship. Keith's work ethic isn't something that works well in one, he's been told. And frankly, he's too caught up in his 'quest to be the greatest ballet dancer in history' as how Hunk would put it.

Keith excuses himself to the bathroom and changes into the spare clothes he packed, sporting black jeans, a black undershirt, motorcycle boots and his trademark red jacket. He pulls his hair into a ponytail before splashing on a little cologne in an effort to conceal the fact that he's spent most of his morning slicked in sweat.

Keith exits the bathroom and pauses, turning to Allura. "Have you called about the pest exterminator yet?"

Allura purses her lips. "Pidge called yesterday. Apparently there's some kind of spider epidemic and everyone wants their house cleaned," she explains. "But thankfully, Pidge's already scheduled us an appointment for next Saturday. It's in the afternoon though, so I hope you don't mind having your afternoon class in the morning?"

Keith lets out a sigh. They all knew what Saturday mornings meant to him, and he's annoyed that he'll have to skip out on his weekly solo time, but Keith nods. Allura gives him an apologetic smile before they both head out.

Lunch at their favourite Vietnamese restaurant is something that's fallen into practise. It was something they could all look forward to; a little downtime after a week of working at the studio. The owner, Linh, is Vietnamese and a close acquaintance of theirs. She knows their orders by heart, saves them a table each week and it's as regular as clockwork. They've become such regulars that sometimes Linh lets them take a seat upstairs in private, where the her large flat-screen television is free for them to use.

By the time Keith and Allura get there, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were already seated. Hunk's face brightens at their arrival, while Lance complains on how long they took. Pidge rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the complimentary tea that was already served to them.

"We already ordered and got you two the regulars," says Hunk as the two take their seats. "Hope you don't mind unless you two wanted something else?" Keith and Allura shake their heads in decline.

Lance scoots over and smirks at Keith. "So, Keith—"

Keith groans and stares at the ceiling. "Is this about me 'getting laid', Lance? Because that's _not_ happening."

"Oh, come on!" Lance exclaims. "You seriously need to spice up your life. Like, I know, you're married to ballet, but you have to at least _consider_ it."

"When I'm not busy."

"But you're always _busy_!"

Keith points his index finger at Lance. "Exactly."

The rest of the lunch is uneventful. They all exchange stories and bicker and an argument regarding politics comes out of nowhere. It's the kind of annoying yet endearing things that Keith simply couldn't pass out on, because it's become a part of his life and he really didn't want it any other way.

* * *

It's Saturday again, and Shiro finds himself heading out for his morning run a little later than he did last week. He's thankful for the correct sunny forecast and a breeze just sweeps by, giving Shiro a taste of his favourite weather once again. The leaves on the trees around him have already started to turn orange, and it's a wonderful sight in the morning.

Shiro could think of another wonderful sight he could behold on that morning as well.

He jogs onto the street of the dance studio, eager to see the enchanting ballet dancer again. He slows down his pace to slow walk and he can see that today, the dancer's not alone.

He's teaching a class of nine, comprised of children and adolescents. He's leaning against the window, and Shiro could see the way his head nods in approval as his students repeat what he's demonstrated. He could see the way his face brightens up when they turn, the way he clasps his hands together before he turns off the music.

Shiro hasn't noticed that he's come to a stop, how he's come to stop to simply gaze at the dancer he didn't even know the name of. He admires the way he works around his students, the patient smile that may falter but never truly leaves his face. The dancer even has his hair in a ponytail today, which made him look even cuter —

 _Oh god._

Shiro's gaze moves to the other figure on the window. It's just a bit bigger than a coin, but his keen eyes would know it, even with the distance between it and the place he was standing. It was brown recluse spider. It was on the window that his favourite dancer was leaning on, and he has yet to notice.

 _Fuck._

Shiro bolts to the window immediately. He persistently taps on the window, wanting to call the attention of the raven-haired dancer. The dancer turns to Shiro, a confused on look on his face. Shiro gives him an apologetic smile and points to the spider that was so conveniently placed on the dancer's side of the window.

The dancer's eyes go wide and he backs away fast. Perhaps _too_ fast, because he loses balance and lands uncomfortably on his arm. Shiro winces and he involuntarily takes a step back. The bad thing is, the dancer didn't get up right away. He's laid down on the floor, clutching his right wrist with his left hand, and panic rises up in Shiro's chest.

Shiro finds himself running towards the entrance, pushing through the glass doors and making his way to the dancer. A white-haired woman was already assessing him while trying to keep the class calm.

"Mister Keith!"

"Oh no, is he going to be okay?"

"There's a _spider_ on the window!"

The dancer holds onto his wrist, clearly in pain. Shiro rushes to his side. "Oh God, I'm so sorry —"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the woman says, helping the dancer to his feet. "Keith, is anything broken?"

Keith winces. His breath is ragged and lets out a groan in pain. "Y-Yeah, I think," he inhales sharply. "God, my wrist hurts. I think I landed on it badly."

Shiro closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "I'll take you to the hospital."

The woman turns to him, a thankful but apologetic smile on her face. "N-No, you don't have to—"

But Shiro was already taking out his phone and calling for a cab. "No, please, I insist."

* * *

Shiro didn't imagine their first meeting to go like this.

He imagined them meeting inside Keith's studio, Shiro introducing himself properly and perhaps even asking him out for a coffee date. He imagined Keith noticing him during his morning jog and maybe striking up a conversation. He's imagined a thousand scenarios but he never expected that they'd end up together in a doctor's office as their first meeting.

Shiro's had bad luck before, but this was just in a whole new level.

What makes matters worse is that Keith is undeniably _beautiful_ , which is an inappropriate observation on Shiro's part, given the situation at hand. Shiro's known how attractive Keith looks from the stolen glances he takes every Saturday, but having him close and having him at the distance is extremely different. He's able to see every little detail about Keith, and Shiro swears that his brain is going to stop functioning any time soon.

The doctor hands Keith a brown envelope with the x-rays. "Well, it seems that you have a grade I sprain in your wrist," she explains and Keith grimaces. "You're lucky it isn't worse. It should take about two to four weeks for it heal, and I recommend a cast."

"Is there _any_ way to like, speed up the healing?" Keith asks, with a desperate tone in his voice. "I have ballet classes to teach."

The doctor shakes her head. "Unfortunately, no," she says. "I could prescribe you painkillers, but rest is still needed."

Shiro feels awful about the situation. He could tell that ballet really is Keith's lifeblood; he could see how much it means to him. And he's been assured by both Keith and his friend — Allura, she says her name is — that it wasn't his fault, but he still can't help but feel that he was to blame. Guilt stirred up in Shiro when he thinks about how Keith was smiling just earlier that day.

"God, I'm sorry for all of this," says Shiro as he and Keith walk down to the lobby. "I'll pay for it, the hospital bill, medicine, everything."

Keith's eyes widen in surprise and he's like a deer in the headlights. "W-What? No —"

"No, please. I feel bad about this whole predicament."

Shiro was already making his way to the pharmacy and then the cashier before Keith could grasp at another chance to protest. Shiro pulls out his debit card and both the hospital bill and prescribed painkillers were paid in full. He hands the bag of medicines to Keith before apologising yet again.

"I said it's not your fault," exclaims Keith. "It was my fault and this is way too much. Seriously, thank you, Mr —"

"Shirogane. Takashi Shirogane. But you can just call me Shiro."

"Shiro. Right," Keith nods. "Well, um, I have a lunch to go to, actually, so —"

"I'll pay for your ride." Shiro insists, and Keith knows that any attempts to reject it would be futile.

* * *

The cab stops in front of Linh's restaurant. Keith steps out and pays the driver the money Shiro gave him. As soon as he enters the restaurant, the sound of Hunk's squeals reaches his ears. He sees them seated at their usual table, and even Linh pauses to take a look at the cast on his wrist.

Keith collapses on the chair with a relieved sigh, but the peace doesn't last and he's soon bombarded with questions from the rest of the group.

"Oh, Keith, I thought you were dead." says Hunk, pulling him into a hug.

"It's just a sprain, Hunk. At least it's not a broken bone," Keith explains. "Though the doctor said it'll take a few weeks to heal completely."

"Keith, I'm so sorry I didn't get the exterminator to come sooner," says Pidge "This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for that damned spider. It had to happen while you were having your morning class, too. I'm so sorry."

"Allura said she had to take over your class after _someone_ took you to the hospital," says Lance, a smirk on his lips. "And who exactly took you to the hospital, Keith?"

"Some guy named Shiro," Keith says dryly. "He said he was passing by for his morning jog and apparently saw the spider on the window."

Pidge's eyes light up at the mention of his name. "Wait, Shiro? Like, Shirogane Shiro? Takashi Shirogane?" Pidge pulls out her phone. "Black hair with a white tuft in front? Scar on his nosebridge? A metal prosthetic arm?"

Allura's eyebrows raise in surprise. "That's sounds exactly him. Pidge, do you _know_ who he is?"

Pidge shows her phone screen to Keith, revealing an Instagram photo of her, her brother Matt, and Shiro. "He's one of Matt's friends and he's the head of a huge company," she explains. "He's always hanging out with Matt. He follows me on Instagram."

Lance grabs the phone from Keith. "Dude, he's _hot_." exclaims Lance. "It's hard to believe that this guy brought you to the hospital and you didn't melt in his presence. He's probably rich, too. Fuck."

Keith remembers how he Shiro had insisted to pay for his hospital bill, medicine, and cab ride. He grumbles. "Pidge said he's the head of a company. He paid for my hospital bill and cab and everything. He's probably _is_ rich."

"Hook up with him." Lance says seriously, which earns him a pinch from Hunk.

"What? No!" Keith blurts out.

"Come on, it's almost _too_ easy. He's already friends with Pidge and her brother. We could like, get you two on a date or something," Lance turns to Pidge. "Right, Pidge?"

Pidge shrugs. "Matt tells me about how he keeps trying to hook up Shiro with people. So, why not?"

Keith snorts and sinks lower in his chair. All he wanted was a serene Saturday, but that was already out of his grasp.

* * *

 **A/N:** thank you for reading and please leave a review if you enjoyed it! feel free to hmu at my tumblr, milahtalas.


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